And Now I Need You
by Tyler Song
Summary: Betty has always been there for Kenny. But what will he do when she needs him more than ever? Sequel to And Then I Met You. KennyxOC, Style, mentioned K2, and CartmanxRed. Rated M
1. Chapter 1

**And now . . . . The moment you've all been waiting for . . . chapter one of . . . ****And Now I Need You****! If you haven't read the story before this, I think it might be fine. There will be small things you won't understand, but . . . If I were you, I'd go and read it. Jus' sayin'. :/ I don't own South Park (be thankful) and any similarities that Betty Daniels has to anyone (living or dead) is a freak accident and I apologize.**

I growled at the annoying screech of my alarm clock. It can't be healthy to have to get up this early. I reached out from beneath my comforter and swatted around for the mechanical devil, only to remember that I had moved it across the room last night so I would actually get up today. I groaned as I swung my legs around to touch. A small hiss escaped when the heat left my body. I dragged my feet to the other side of the room until I stood in front of it. There it is. _Blaring_ at me. I made a fist and slammed it down onto the snooze button. Ah, much better. I turned around and trudged back to my bed, eager for the warmth of my blankets once more. The second I had settled back into my bed, a plump little old lady poked her head into my room.

"Uh-uh-uh! No sleeping, skittle bug! You don't want to miss your first day as a Senior, do you?" Aunt Burny chuckled. And with that, she was gone. I whined into my pillow. I forgot about that. I had asked Aunt Burny to come and check on me if she heard my alarm clock go off.

Good morning. My name is Betty Daniels, and I've been living in South Park for almost eight years now. I really haven't changed that much. Not even my height is all that different; I'm quite petite for my age. The only thing that's really changed about me is that I don't wear a parka any more. I decided not to on my first day of Jr. High. It felt very uncomfortable at first, 'cause so many people were talking to me the first few days and I wasn't used to it. But I kinda made myself get over it. It was starting to get a little bit embarrassing being the only one attached to their childhood attire.

I got out of bed and stretched as far as I could, my men's dress shirt reaching just above my panty line. Yeah, that's something else that hasn't changed either. I still wear this old shirt to bed. Of course, when I put my arms down, it still covers that area pretty well. I wear sweatpants when making my 'good-night' rounds, but as soon as I'm in my room, off they go! It just gets so hot in here at times! I walked over to my closet and swung my doors open, revealing my many different articles of clothing. I decided to wear my bell bottoms and a white, three-quartered t-shirt. I considered wearing my vest with it, but decided to pass. My lucky scarf lay casually on the dresser. I tied it in my hair like a hairband and then had to take it out again because, in my groggy state, I forgot that my hair was fit for a rat's nest. I walked to my mirror so I could see what I was doing. After taming the beast as best as I could, re-fixed my hair. My fingers automatically raked through the dull strands hanging from my head. Geez, I hate my hair so much! It's so _bland_! I once considered dying my hair, but I figured Aunt Burny would have a stroke. So I put up with it for her sake. I grabbed my jacket and my messenger bag and headed down the hallway. A rather large man in a tweed business suit sat on the couch reading a newspaper. "Morning, Uncle Mark!"

Uncle Mark looked up from his newspaper. "Oh, good morning, sweetie! Burnette! Our little Bethany's up!"

A tinkling laugh came from the kitchen. "Well, she's not so little any more, is she?" Aunt Burny said, coming into the living room. I wrapped my arms around the plump woman and hugged her as gently as I could.

"Good morning, Aunty Burny! Thank you for helping me wake up."

She gave me a light peck on the cheek. "You're welcome, sweetheart. Now, why don't you go freshen up and I'll make you some toast, huh?" That sounded like a very good idea, so that's what I did.

After I applied the last bit of make-up, I came out and saw the piece of toast patiently waiting for me on a small blue saucer. "Thank you, Aunt Burny!" I called out. I was about to sit down and eat when I heard a car horn beep outside. "Oh, no! He's here!" I cried. I threw on my jacket, slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, and popped my toast into my mouth.

"Bah, gahs! Ah woaf ya'ah!" I said past the bread.

"Good-bye, sweetie! Love you, too!" they called back.

I dashed out the door, down the porch, and over to my ride. I ran over to the passenger side of the little Porsche and jumped in. I took my breakfast out of my mouth after I buckled up.

"Ah! G'morning, Butters!"

The timid little blonde smiled back. "Wuh, g-good mornin' Betty! A-Are you ready for a su-super swell day?" he stammered. Oh my Bob, I _love Butters_! He's like the little brother I never had. And he's such a cutie pie, too! He's always doing such nice things for me and is always there when I'm in a pinch.

I leaned over and gave him a tight squeeze. "Ha ha! Sure am! Can you believe we're Seniors now? I kinda feel _old_ now!" I laughed. Butters laughed with me. "Y-Yeah. M-Me too, sorta." he agreed. That was our ride to school; talking about what might happen today, what we're looking forward to this year, and me eating my toast carefully so that I didn't leave any crumbs. I don't want him to get grounded on my account.

When Butters parked into the school parking lot, we agreed that we'd stick together 'til we passed his homeroom. We both entered the big glass double-doors of South Park High. I took a deep breath. The school always had an interesting smell the first few days. Butters copied me. "Ahh! I-I always have to do th-that on the first day. It-It really gets me in the, the school mood." he smiled. I giggled at him.

"Same here." We walked down the hall through the sea of reuniting teenagers. After a while, I saw an unmistakable shock of curly red hair. "Kyle!"

Kyle stopped what he was doing and turned around. "Hey, Bet! Hi, Butters!" he smiled, giving a limp wave.

"Well, hi Kyle! Ho-How was your summer?" Butters asked. The red head shrugged. "Hot. You?" Butters bumped his knuckles together. "Oh, you know. B-Busy," was all he said. I hang out with Butters all the time, but that doesn't mean the other guys do.

Speaking of which . . . "Um, Kyle? Where's Stan?" I asked him, thankful for a conversation starter.

I felt a huge hand clamp down on my shoulder. "Right here."

I turned around and gave him a quick hug. "Hey, Stan!" I said. Stan had grown a lot since Jr. High. He was a freaking _giant_! Perfect for our school's quarterback.

"You act like we haven't seen each other all summer!" he laughed, letting me go to strut over to Kyle and wrap an arm around the bookworm's scrawny waist. I beamed at them like crazy. That's right! Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski are finally a couple! It happened when Kyle began to date one of our closest friends. After a while, Stan got insanely jealous and snatched the redhead up the second he was available again. We were all happy for them. Even Craig Tucker was, a little bit! He's never happy about everything! Well, except for his ancient guinea pig, Stripe. And the occasional re-run of Red Racer. That's what I hear, anyway. Craig's never been exactly 'fond' of me, and tends to show it when no one is around. So as you can imagine, we aren't very close.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar blob walking past us. "Hey, Cartman!" I called over. Eric turned towards us and only gave a curt nod. I looked past him and spotted his fiery girlfriend, Red. I smiled and waved at her. "Hey, Red!" I sang out. She cracked a half-hearted grin and flashed a thumbs-up, then urged her boyfriend to keep walking. Let me tell you, _that_ couple threw _everybody_ off! Considering how Cartman supposedly hated all gingers, everyone gave it about, oh, thirty minutes. They've been dating for five _years_. And still going strong! The way it's been going, they might even end up getting hitched! This _is_ South Park, after all; stranger things have happened. Cartman still hangs out with us from time to time, but he mostly spends every waking moment with Red. They've become the new StEndy couple in South Park. Suddenly, my vision went dark.

"Guess who!" a falsetto voice rang out. I placed my hands on my hips, grinning playfully.

"Oh, I don't know. Mrs. _Doubtfire_?" I tease.

My best friend merely laughed and uncovered my eyes, stepping into my line of vision. His dirty blonde hair bounced in step and the florescent lighting bounced off his tan skin. His cerulean eyes twinkled with their usual mischief. He flashed his glorious crooked smile at me and I had to lock my knees to keep myself standing. "Hey, Bet!" I felt myself return a goofy grin.

"Hello, Kenny!"

Remember the close friend I said Kyle had dated? That was him. Kenny came out as bi in the sixth grade. It didn't change anybody's opinion of him, though. Including me. I'm still in love with him. After the first time I had been to his house when I was a kid, I had left trying to decide if I should tell him how I feel. I almost talked to Kyle about it, but I had chickened out at the last second. So I've been suffering in silence for eight years, watching him date girl after girl after boy. What? I _did_ tell you he was bi, right? There's only one person in this whole entire school that he's never layed a perverted finger on. Me. The one person who wants him for _him_. And while it hurts, I'm okay with it. I'd rather be his best friend and be near him than be an extra and pine for him from afar. At least he knows I even _exist_. Some girls aren't even that lucky.

Kenny reached behind me neck and gently tugged at tails of my make-shift headband. His fingers lightly grazed the nape of my neck and it took every ounce of will power to keep myself from shivering. "You still have this hunk o' junk?" he teased me.

I reached back to swat his hand away. "Hey! I'll have you know that this is my favorite scarf!" I smiled, feigning offense. Kyle rolled his eyes and smirked. Probably because this is our usual banter that me and Kenny have exchanged every year since the sixth grade. Kenny's mother gave this to me _years_ ago and I had always worn it beneath my parka, so no one really knew about it until the day I came to school in plain ol' clothes. Kenny had teased me for still owning it after all that time.

Speaking of old clothing, I took a brief moment to fully absorb his entire outfit, eyes falling on his very poorly made corduroy jacket. It was a shabby looking thing. Made by a true amateur. The tan material had frayed with the years, one arm was slightly longer than the other, patches were stitched on to cover up any mistakes. It needed a bigger patch. I felt my cheeks grow warm with shame. "Wh-Why do you still have that old thing?" I stammered.

It took the blonde a moment to realize I was talking about the failure draped over his shoulders. His lips twitched up into a teasing smirk. "Hey, I'll have you know that this is my favorite jacket!" he winked, mimicking my earlier statement. "'Sides. It finally fits me now." he laughed. I wanted to hit him for that.

For his birthday one year, I noticed that his parka was beginning to get too big for him. I wanted to surprise him by making him a new jacket. I didn't take into account that I sucked at sewing. He opened it in front of all his friends and I could see his cheeks glow pink at the monstrosity in his hands. He tried to put it on and it had swallowed him _whole_. I was so embarrassed, I ended up buying him a new jacket a couple days later. None of the guys has let me live that down.

Kyle's snickering brought me back to reality and I knew he was remembering the same thing. I reached over and swatted him with the back of my hand. "Hey! You hush up, curly top!" I whined.

Stan chuckled and pulled him closer out of habit. "Oh, c'mon. It was a sweet gesture! You didn't do _that_ bad on it, and it was cute . . . I mean funny!" he added hastily. I gave him a confused grin. Why was there a need to tack that on like that? He sounded like if he didn't, he'd get his face bashed in.

My grin didn't last long and quickly turned into a pout. "It wasn't cute _or_ funny! It was down right embarrassing." I squirmed. I had very clearly seen the look in his eyes when he had held it up. Butters had opened his mouth to say something but he had cut himself off just as the bell rang. I looked up at the ceiling as if I could see the sound waves. "Whoop! There's the bell! Let's go, Butters!" I thought I had seen Kenny tense a little when I grabbed the timid boy's hand.

"You guys are in the same homeroom this year?" he asked.

I turned to him and smiled. "Nah. But we had agreed to walk together until we went pass his homeroom." I looked back at the others and waved. "See you guys later!"

Butters was looking at the ground, shuffling his feet. "Uh, b-bye fellas." he mumbled, then turned to led me down the hall. I felt the same sinking feeling I got whenever he stuck around while I said hey to the others. He never contributes to the conversation and is just hanging in the background. I kind of feel like I'm ignoring him, and believe you me, I'm not! He's just so quite. Every time I try to include him, the air feels thick and suffocating. I don't understand why he and the others don't get along! I mean, they used to before . . . to a degree. Now they all get awkward around each other. I can't help but wonder what happened.

Me and Butters make small talk as we maneuver down the hall to Butters' final destination. Butters grinned at me and said, "Uh, s-see ya, Bet." He turned to the open doorway, but didn't take a step inside.

"Butters? Is something wrong?"

He took a deep breath, and when he turned back around his whole face was a sweet pink. "F-For what it's worth," he said. "I think you're an excellent tailor!" With that, he ran through the door to the safety of his classroom. It took me a second to register what just happened, then I smile after him. He was trying to cheer me up about Kenny's jacket. Thanks, Butters. That means a lot.

My homeroom is in the Home Ec. Department. Oh, excuse me, "_Family and Consumer Science_" Department. Everyone still calls it Home Ec., though. You enter through the kitchen area, which consists of six cooking stations. About half-way through the room, the kitchen abruptly stops and turns into the actual classroom. The 'desks' are just tables put together so that they all link into a disfigured 'U'. Multiple sewing machines lined the walls of the classroom. They're much nicer models than the one Aunt Burny and I share at home. A large, muscular man in a hot pink Hawaiian shirt was at the back of the room. "Hi, thweety!" Big Gay Al smiled. "Welcome back to school!" I grinned up at the vibrant man.

"Hello, Mr. Al. How was your summer?"

He flicked a feminine wrist at me. "It was thuper! Thanks for asking!" My eye caught Cartman sitting in a chair at one of the adjoining tables, moping because his beloved Red isn't in our homeroom. Again. I made my way through the class and sat next to him. In retrospect, it's never a good idea to sit with Cartman when Red wasn't around. She was like a sedative of sorts for the pudgy boy. Without her around, he became his regular ol' jerk-face self.

Cartman glanced over at me and scoffed. "Why the heck are you dressed like a hippie?" he asked bitterly. Even though I should've been offended by his tone of voice, I couldn't help but laugh instead at his point. I told him that I hadn't even thought of that when I put it on this morning and he just rolled his eyes.

Across the room I saw Wendy Testaburger sitting next to Bebe Stevens, both talking about who knows what. Probably cheerleader stuff and what not. Wendy and I locked eyes and gave friendly, awkward waves to each other. Back in the fourth grade, she and the other girls in our class had played an incredibly mean joke on me. I was so embarrassed that I ran all the way to Stark's Pond and had passed out in the snow for several hours from exhaustion and stress. The story I had heard was that everybody knew that Wendy was behind the whole prank. Stan was so mad at her that he broke up with her in front of the entire school. People had still been laughing their heads off and Craig had made a comment that made Kenny break his nose. Kyle made one of his big speeches about morals and humanity, sending everyone into a guilt trip. At that point, everybody was angry with Wendy, branding her as the school's current most hated student. She hated my guts even more for that. But I guess she had had time to cool her head during the time I was bed-ridden. A couple of days after I came back to school, we had a minor spat that ended with Wendy and I on okay terms, along with the other girls. Kenny still avoids her like the plague, though. This one time when he was slightly buzzed, he accidentally flirted with her at a party. All he had seen was her back. When she had turned around and he saw it was Wendy, Kenny left the party all together.

Bebe followed Wendy's gaze and smiled at me. "Oh! Hey, Bet! What's shakin', bacon?" she asked. Whenever she uses that phrase, she usually wants something. Whenever she uses that phrase with me, it's never good on my end.

"Not much. First day back to school and all that. How about you?"

Bebe flipped her curly blonde hair over her shoulder. "Oh, you know. Same ol', same ol'. I'm dating Clyde again, Wendy's still dating Token, cheer practice is still tiring, etcetera, etcetera." She leaned onto her elbows as if trying to close the gap in between us. "That reminds me, how's gymnastics going? Have you started practicing with _your_ team yet?"

I shook my head. "Our first practice is after school today." I informed her. In the back of my head, I wondered why I told her when we started. She didn't need to know and she didn't ask when we were supposed to meet up again. Something inside me didn't want her to know anything about my gymnastic schedule.

"Ahh. Okay, okay." Bebe droaned out. She got a sort of bashful, girly look on her face and played with a piece of her hair. "Is, uh . . . Is Kenny still taking you?" she asked, batting her eyes. I felt my hand twitch violently beneath the table. Ah. So _that's_ it.

I try to put a sweet-ish smile on my face. "That's the plan, anyway." I respond coolly.

"Cool. Um, he's not seeing anybody, is he?"

"Not that I know of."

But _you_ are.

"Hmm. Well, tell him I said hi, 'kay?" she said with a wink. If I don't 'accidentally' forget first, then sure! Bebe gave me a thumb's up and directed her attention back to the conversation she was having with Wendy. I began to silently stew, hoping no one noticed. Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike Bebe. Really! She can actually be very sweet in her own . . . 'special' ways. Bebe is the most flirtatious girl in the whole school. But she also has morals. Or, at least a few. Bebe is the type of girl who lives by fair play. If she knows someone has a guy on her radar, she backs off. Key word here is 'know'. You see, I would like to keep my _secret crush_ a _secret_! If she knew how much I liked him for all these years, she would definitely back down. Then again, Kenny _is_ her favorite 'sex-buddy'. It's a fact that everybody knows. They're the second most on-off couple here, coming up short to Bebe and Clyde. So, I wonder if she would care if she knew? I wonder how long she and Clyde Donovan have been dating if she's already bored with him and is trying to sink her claws back into Kenny? She does that all the time; she'll get a new boyfriend, find another boy to 'sample' as she calls it (most people refer to it as 'cheating', but I guess she has a different edition of Webster's.), and she'll compare them to her current and ex-boyfriends. For example, she's probably comparing Clyde to Kenny right now. And unless he's not interested at the moment, Kenny's going to win every time. But maybe Clyde will be spared this round, because Kenny hasn't been flirting with anybody lately. It's almost as if he's lost all interest. I mean, sure, he'll throw a couple of lines here and there, but there's not really any meaning behind his words. The last relationship he was in was with Kyle. It makes me wonder if something didn't happen between them that made him change somehow. I'm a little curious . . .

"AY! EARTH TA HIPPEH!"

"GAH! OH GEEZ!"

I was yanked out of my own little world and rudely thrust back into reality. Tweek had come in at some point and was standing behind me, a paranoid, vibrating bag of coffee with two legs. "Tweek! Oh, I'm sorry about that! Did you need something?" The mussed-up blonde twitched ever so slightly, still shaking violently from his latest scare. He hung out with Craig a lot, but he seemed not to mind me as much as Craig did. However, Tweek only let on when he wasn't around. In his logic, he probably thinks that Craig would completely cut ties with him if he knew Tweek didn't despise me as much as he did. Tweek would do anything for that cynical creep, so that would be a devastating blow for the tiny spazz.

"ERG! Do you have a-GAH!- p-pencil I can borrow?"

I smiled up at the slightly taller male. "Sure! Here, you can even have it if you want." I turned to my bag before Tweek could sputter out a protest. I handed him a blue mechanical pencil and told him that if it makes him feel better, he can tell people he found it if they ask. The idea seemed to convince him to accept the cheap gift in his trembling hands, and he ran off to find a seat as fast as he could. I watched him retreat, a little amused, and briefly wondered how he and Butters would get along.

"Geez, Betty! It took you long enough! Seriouslah." Cartman snapped. I rubbed my head and laughed sheepishly.

"Sorry. I was thinking really hard."

"'Bout what? How you're still a virgin?"

I blushed furiously and smacked Cartman in the arm while he continued to laugh hysterically. "Sh-Shut up, Cartman!" I hissed. "Besides, I'm waiting until I get married for that!" A nice way of saying, 'It's not my fault no one wants to have sex with me!'

Cartman ignored my comment, flicking away a stray tear out of his eye. "I mean, seriouslah! Even Kahl gets nailed every other night by a _quarterback_, and Kahl's a _Jew_!" Why don't you say that a little louder, Eric? I'm not sure if Terrance and Philip could catch what you said. My face scrunched up in confusion. I almost asked him what religion had to do with anything, but then remembered who I was talking to and let it die. Cartman's pudgy face was flushed. "Well," he gasped. "It could be worse. You could be a virgin _and_ still be waiting to pucker up or something." I didn't respond. I didn't even look at him. I just stared at my lap and prayed that he didn't notice my awkward silence. There's this thing with trying to hide embarrassment; it never works. _Especially _around Cartman, who was laughing even harder now. I think I had this dream once where I was kissed. By a super hero, no less! But every time I try to remember it in detail, my head starts to hurt. I've given up on it and don't think about it anymore.

I slammed my fist into my lap, my face now a very deep crimson. "Dang it, Cartman, _shut up_!" I repeated. I wonder what will come first: the day that works, or the day I finally learn that it will _never_ work?

"I! Can't! Believe! This!" he wheezed. "Tweek! Tweek! You gotta hear this!"

I groan and bury my face into my arms. I wish Red were here, then Eric would be talking to _her_ instead! Reaching into my bag, I discreetly pull out my iPod and crank up the volume. _Con te Partiro_ comes on immediately. Yes, I listen to operatic, _shut your face_! It's actually my dream to have someone serenade me with this song, and I often fantasize about playing Christine in _Phantom of the Opera_. But it's only a fantasy. My main interest is gymnastics. It's my destiny. I've always participated in gymnastics, even when I lived in Pennsylvania, when I lived with . . . them. My mom and _him_. _He_ didn't want me to, but that didn't stop me. I would still sneak over to where the other gymnasts practiced after school, and when they left to go home, I would use their equipment myself. My coach now says I'm a natural and am destined for great things. Andre Bocceli belched out the final note into my ears. _Oh_, he's so talented! If I can, I've _got_ to do a routine to this song! After four or five more songs, the bell rang for us to go to our first classes of the day and I exchanged my iPod with my schedule. I pulled it to and from my face a little until the words finally became focused. Lemme see . . . I have pre-calculus first period. That's with Mr. Moore! I think Kyle might be in there, too! I looked up from my paper and grinned. So far, so good!

After maneuvering my way to the classroom, I saw the redhead immediately. He called me over and I took the empty desk next to him. That's when it hit me. Of all the people in South Park, Kyle would know how to properly deal with Cartman! I was so excited by my idea, I randomly hit my desktop with a loud '_smack_' and twisted my body around to face him. "Dude! I need your help!"

Kyle seemed a little taken aback at my sudden bluntness. "Okay?" he laughed nervously. "What did you need?" I leaned in toward him.

"How to you get Cartman to stop bugging you for, like, _five seconds_?"

Kyle scoffed. "I don't even think that's pos . . . si . . . ble . . ." A smirk slowly creeped up his ivory face. The kind of smirk that held devious intent. The kind of smirk I liked the most. "Actually," he started slowly. "There's this song . . ."

**! ;A; I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all you lovely people who waited so patiently while I got this together! I might need you to continue being patient a liiiitle bit longer, though. Because I just started writing the fourth chapter, for one thing. At least, I think. Ya see, this was typed out in advance to when this has been posted. I'm purposely waiting until a specific date to put this up. However, if you're reading this right now, it's today: May 19****th****, 2012. Why this particular date? Because, exactly a year ago, I had first published ****And Then I Met You**** on this day. Except, now it's a Saturday and I have more writing experience than before. But anyway, here's the second thing I need you to be patient with me for . . . IIII'm gonna have to post the chapters once a week to give me more time to finish with the others. (DON'HITME!) Also, I started writing this waay before the current season of South Park started, so there are some things that won't be entirely 'accurate' regarding some of the characters that might be left out and what not. The story is also set in, like 2018 and 2019. Also-Also, the story might have a slow start, but I promise it will get interesting fairly soon. ;) Please feel free to review! And if you'd like some updates on other things I do, feel free to look me up on deviantART! My username's ****tylersong****! See ya there!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yo! ^3^ Welcome back to ANINY! Again, this is pre-written, like, waaay before I even posted the first chapter. Let's get the disclaimers out of the way, shall we? I don't own South Park (be thankful) and any similarities that Betty Daniels holds to anyone (livin' or dead) is a freak accident and I apologize. Now for chapter 2! **

"Ken, hurry up!" Stan nudged me in the back. I groaned and made my feet slide _slightly_ faster. I felt like a huge black cloud was hovering over my head, threatening to break at any second. Stan rolled his eyes. "Oh, c'mon. History's not _that_ bad." he sighed. "Just really boring." I scrunched my face up at his nagging.

"It's not the subject I'm upset about!" I whined. "It's Mrs. Stitch! That old fart _hates_ me!"

"Dude, I think she hates _everybody_." Stan laughed.

I glared at the raven haired kid next to me. "Yeah, but she _especially_ hates me! I don't even know why, I didn't do nothin' to her!" I seethed. Stan shrugged at me.

"Oh yeah, nothing at all . . . except call her an old fart, roll her yard, skip her class, trash her car, ignore her lesson (but everybody does that), switch her pen with one filled with invisible ink, bang her daught— OW!" He cut himself off to rub the arm I just slugged to shut him up. I did _not_ want to remember that! Cathy Stitch _still_ tries to text me every now and then. But she looks and acts way too much like her mother. I still shiver at what I had done in my drunken stupor.

"Okay, okay! I get it! You've made your point; I don't need the freaking list!" I barked at Stan.

The classroom started to get even closer and I had to sigh to relieve the deep weight of dread growing in my chest. "Come on, dude, let's just get this over with." Stan laughed. I called him a jockstrap under my breath and followed him inside the freezing room.

Mrs. Stitch looked up at me from her desk, lasers shooting out of her cat-eye glasses. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Kenneth McCormick." I winced at the use of my given name. _Kenneth_. It's so formal, so upper crust, so . . . not freaking me! "And what, pray tell, do I owe this pleasure?" she droaned out. She used that phrase all the time! Who says 'pray tell' anymore? Old people, that's who! (Actually, I didn't give her enough credit. She wasn't _old_, she just acted like it . . . and dressed like it . . . and _smelled_ like it. But when I met her back in the ninth grade, she was just beginning to form fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. So she's at _least_ in her mid-thirties!) I stuck my hands in homemade pockets and glared at the floor.

"I'm in your first class, Mrs. Stitch." I mumbled. The stiff old lady displayed a look of pure contempt. She sniffed and reached for a stack of papers, rapidly leafing through them all and scanning the final page.

Her lips pursed into a thin line and huffed through her nose. "Oh, yes. Here you are. You will be the start of every day for the next ten months." Her eyes lifted to the ceiling and she said, "Heaven, help me." I rolled my own eyes while Stan just snickered at me. The old croan's gaze fell back to me. "Well, perhaps you will actually learn something this year." she sighed. "Go and take your seats now." She nodded towards Stan.

"Hello, Stanely."

"Morning, Mrs. Stitch."

We purposely picked two seats in the far back of the room to escape the hawk-like eyes of our teacher. I plopped down in my chair and propped my sulking head in my hands, a moody scowl on my face. My ebon friend watched me. "Dude, what is your _problem_?" he asked, genuinely.

"Nothin'." I lied. I wasn't gonna tell him that I was moping over Bet.

I didn't like how friendly she is with Butters. I don't like Butters taking her to school in the mornings. I don't like Butters holding Betty's hand like that. I don't like them walking down the hallway like that. I don't like Betty taking off with Butters to go to _separate classes_ together. And I _really_ don't like the goofy grin Butters has on his face when they do that stuff! It pisses me off! The only thing keeping my fist from going through a wall is the fact that Betty seems completely oblivious to how Butters really feels about her. Whenever she says she loves him, she means like a brother. Or whenever she hugs him so affectionately, it's out of friendship. This kind of stuff is actually normal for them. Butters is aware that he's been put in the friend zone. But that doesn't mean he won't confess to her one day. And that doesn't mean she can't develop feelings for him, too. The thought of seeing them together as a couple made my stomach twist into knots. I wanna break his arm and tell him to back off of her! Then I feel stupid because I'm forced to re-discover the fact that I see Butters as an actual _threat_. I sighed as I tried to imagine telling Kyle about the emotions swirling around in my head. The look on his freckled face appeared clear as day as his slight Jersey accent drags out in a monotone voice, 'You're getting jealous of _Butters_ now? _Seriously_?' My lips twitched upward for a moment. It's funny. We had only dated for a few months and yet he's had a bigger impact on me than any of my other ex's. I chuckled a little.

"You know Stan, you've got a good thing goin' for you."

I saw Stan cock an eyebrow at me from the corner of my eye. "What?" he asked. I shook my head and told him to forget it. The jock put a hand across my forehead. "Are you sure you're okay, man? I mean, you've acted weird before, but not this weird! You've been _way_ out of character lately! You haven't even had sex with anybody since you broke up with . . ." Stan's jaw clenched and he pulled back his hand, watching me with a blank stare. I frowned back.

"What? Is there something on my face?" There shouldn't be! I actually shaved this morning!

Stan didn't answer me at first. I was starting to fidget under his constant glowering gaze. The freak did I say? He finally opened his mouth and asked in a very shake voice, "Kenny, do you still love Kyle?"

My eyes widened at his accusation. "What the fu— NO! It was a mutual break up, you friggin' idiot! If I still liked him like that, you would _not_ be havin' your meaty little hands all over him! Not unless he was comfortable enough for a threesome." I leaned in and flashed my trademark perverted smirk. "My offer still stands for that, by the way." I purred. I jumped back in time to dodge the fist that would've definitely collided with my face, laughing at how red Stan's face was. "Geez, man! You're so insecure! He's all yours, okay? Stop being so _possessive_, gaah _lee_!"

Stan's jaw dropped. "Ah! You should talk! If you could, you would've implanted a frickin' _GPS_ inside of him!" He paused a moment. "You didn't, did you?"

"If I had, you would've found it by now."

Stan rolled his eyes and then stared into space a while. "Now that I think about it," he said. "You're actually kinda clingy with _Betty_ too! I _swear_ you were gonna kill me when I had called her 'cute' earlier. Which is _not_ fair because one, I let you talk to Kyle like that all the time and _two_, she's not even your _girlfriend_! Therefore, you have no right to be so touchy about her." He laughed at his own easing remark while I tried not to look at him, just stared at the desktop in front of me. I smirked at the all-too true statement my best friend just made to me.

The tardy bell finally rang and the other half of the class flooded in. As soon as they all picked out their seats, Mrs. Stitch started rambling about syllabuses and rules of the classroom and all that crap. Why in the world do we have to go over this every freaking year! As the old fart continued to prattle on about proper classroom etiquette and mandatory signatures, I put my head on my desk and drifted off to sleep. I even had a dream. I dreamed about a memory. A memory of the night me and Kyle made our deal and broke up.

_ It was a Saturday evening in May. Kyle had invited me over to his house to spend the night at his house. I jumped at the chance to hang out with my book-smart boyfriend. I'm telling you, Kosher boy is an __**animal**__ in the sack! So, since his parent's were gone for the weekend and his brother was off at some camp, I had assumed that when Kyle said he wanted to 'talk' . . . Well, you put the pieces together._

_ Later that night, we were sitting in the kitchen just making small talk. I had a can of soda and Kyle had made himself some herbal tea. He had kept squeezing the mug in his hands, transfixed on the soothing liquid inside it and barely even holding up his end of our 'conversation'. The soft light of the kitchen bounced off his fiery red curls and his skin had a gentle glow to it. The set look on his face, pouting lips and creased eyebrows above gleaming emeralds, made me 'fiery' somewhere else. I leaned in so that I was right next to his ear. He didn't even notice. "What're you thinking so hard about?" I whispered, huskily. His head shot up and his cheeks began to match his hair. I grinned at him, unable to help myself. Even though we've been dating for half a year, he still wasn't used to my sexual advances. He was so adorable when he got flustered! He almost reminded me of . . ._

_ I always feel like I got punched in the gut when I do that. Comparing whoever I'm with to her. Especially when I do it to Kyle. He didn't deserve that. Shoot, he didn't even deserve __**me**__! Neither of them does, and I know that full well. _

_Kyle tried to push me away. "Dude, personal space!" he said. I just laughed and got even closer, slinking my arm around his tiny waist._

"_Oh, don't tell mw you're not turned on." I teased him._

_Kyle's face flushed a deep crimson. He tried to yank himself free. "Kenny, I'm serious! Let go!"_

_ My blood turned to ice, and I did as he had asked. Something was up. He was really, really upset. I didn't like that one bit! "Ky, what's wrong?" I asked, grabbing his hand. "Did someone hurt you again?" Kyle wasn't exactly a 'school favorite' around South Park High. Everyone who didn't truly know him thought he considered himself above the rest of them. And while he __**was**__, he never thought that. He gets himself into trouble from time to time with bullies because of his smarts. The fact that he just came out as gay only made things worse. It makes me sick when he shows up to school trying to hide his injuries. It makes me wanna go on a killing spree when he shows up on my doorstep in tears, begging me for help and not to tell Stan. I have to settle for punching objects though, because he won't tell me who it is. Sometimes, he won't even tell me if he was harassed or not. Those moments usually go like this, which is why I'm freaking out._

_Kyle hesitated a moment before slowly shaking his head. "No, I'm okay." he muttered. "It's nothing like that. They haven't been messing with me lately."_

_My grip tightened slightly, a lump beginning to form on my throat. "Then what's the matter? Ky, tell me what's bugging you!" I prodded. Kyle didn't say anything for a good long while. He just stared into his mug, watching the ripples in his tea as he twisted the ceramic cup from side to side._

" _. . . I know you still love Betty."_

_ My heart jumped so high up into my throat, I almost choked up the lump that was forming moments ago. I tries to play it off with an amused smirk. "What?" I laughed. "Where did that come from?"_

_ Kyle let go of his mug to place his hand on top of mine. "I believe you really do care for me. And I appreciate that! But you still have feelings for Betty. I know you do." _

_ I slid my hand out from in-between his and shook my head. "Wait, wait, wait. What's all this 'still' stuff? I had never said I even had feelings for her in the first place!" I argued, my insides burning from feeling like a traitor. It must have shown, because Kyle gave me that look that said, 'You're so full of it.'_

_ "Dude. It's written all over your face." he stated. Crap! I made a mental note to work on my poker face while I chewed on my bottom lip thoughtfully. I really did if people could see that I did have feelings for the one I can't have. Then again, Kyle has a knack for seeing right through bullcrap. But how long has he seen through __**my**__ bullcrap?_

_ One way to find out. "Okay, so let's assume for five seconds that I did 'have feelings for her', as you put it,' I started slowly. "When did you start thinking that I did?"_

_Kyle sighed and gripped his mug of tea again. "Remember the little 'incident' that happened back in the fourth grade?"_

"_You're gonna have to be a little bit more specific, man." I laughed. "You just described our whole school year with an ironic understatement!"_

"_The one with Bet and the girls."_

_ I stiffened, all hints of light jest erased from my features. The stupid prank those cows pulled that almost cost Betty her life. "All too well." I growled, more at the memory than at Kyle. Wendy had been the ring leader of that whole thing. The other girls had been jealous of her because she had gotten a lot of the guys' full attention. Wendy was especially livid because she thought Betty was trying to steal Stan away. Breaking up with her had been the smartest thing that Stan had done back then. I still can't believe I almost hit on her, drunk or not!_

_ Kyle squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable with the murderous intent I could feel oozing out of my pours. He knew it was something I generally try __**not**__ to think about, so he better have a good point to this. "Um, r-remember when we took her to the hospital that night?' he continued. I looked down in my lap and a picture of weak, frail, fourth grade Betty's face flashed before me, her features being illuminated by random passing streetlights. I remembered the sick feeling in my gut thinking she was going to die. Now that I know she's okay, I could smile at how innocent she had seemed in my arms._

"_Yeah." I murmured. "Yeah, I do."_

"_I've known since then."_

_ I looked back up at him, confused. His emerald green orbs locked onto mine, yellow light dancing off of them. "You had watched her the entire ride there. You had had this look in your eyes me and Stan had never seen before. And you only get that look when you're worried about Betty. You had again just now, actually." Kyle brought the mug to his lips and took a sip. His face crinkled a little and he made a comment about it being lukewarm now. He put the mug back down and I ran my fingers through my greasy hair. _

_ "That long, huh?" I asked. The Jew nodded slowly. Sneaky little devil. I guess the jig is up. It's __**been**__ up for a while now, apparently. I grinned a little. "You know that was also the night I began to question my sexuality, right?" I asked him. His eyes bulged a little and he shook his head._

"_No, I didn't! What happened to make you do that?"_

"_When you were trying to make me feel better, I was thinking about how I would totally tap that backdoor of yours if I ever had the chance."_

_ I winked at him and his jaw dropped, that sexy little blush spreading across his face. It could've been from embarrassment, outrage, or a mixture of both, but he was shocked speechless either way. I picked up my soda can and started to swirl the remaining beverage inside it. "So really, I had a crush on you too since that night." I observed, taking a sip of my drink. "Mission accomplished."_

_ "Exactly!" I raised a questioning eyebrow at the redhead. His cheeks tinted again. "W-Well, not like that. I mean . . ." He sighed and scooted his chair closer to me. "You always go after what you want. Whether it's a game, a piece of food, cash, chicks, guys, __**me**__! And a majority of the time, you always get it. Case in point," He gestured a hand over himself like a showgirl presenting a grand prize. I let out a short, almost snort-like laugh as his hand fell back down into his lap. He cocked his head over to the side. "So, here's what I don't understand: If you can get anything and anybody you want, __**what**__ is keeping you from going after Betty? Isn't she what you've wanted all along?"_

_ My throat went extremely dry and I took a giant swig of my soda. I wished it was something stronger, like a shot of vodka or something. I almost slammed the aluminum can back down onto the table. I flat out __**refused**__ to look at my boyfriend. "I swear I'm not using you." I whispered, barely audible. Who was I trying to convince, Kyle or myself?_

_ Kyle placed a pale hand on my shoulder. "I know," he said. "You're not that kind of guy?" So why do I feel like it? He let me lean over to rest my head onto his tiny chest. He gently stroked my hair as if I was a beaten dog. I felt like it. I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing myself to say out loud what I never wanted to admit._

"_I can't have her."_

_The Jew stopped stroking my head, leaning back so he could look at my face. "What do you mean?" he asked. _

_ I pulled myself away, already missing the contact. "I mean just that," I shrugged. "I don't deserve such a good kid. Shoot, I know __**you**__ deserve better than me, Kyle! And there's no way she could ever go for me anyway. To be honest, I still can barely believe you're in a relationship with me."_

" _. . . You are a freaking idiot!"_

_ My body jumped. Kyle looked ready to smack my head clear across the room. "You don't deserve her? __**That's **__your excuse for not trying? That's a load of bullcrap! If that was really all that was keeping you from getting her, you would __**never**__ have asked me out! You just told me that you thought that I deserved better, did you not? Yet, here we are! You're just afraid of her rejecting you, aren't you? And how do you know that she'd never go for you? Did you ever think that __**I**__ would?" To be perfectly honest? Not once. When I had asked him out, I was half-kidding, half-serious. I slowly wagged my head no. "There you go!" he snapped. "If she really wouldn't try to go for you, there are three reasons why she wouldn't: one, she know someone else who likes you; two, she's waaay to shy for that; three, you have dated every girl in town and yet you take __**extra special**__ precautions to avoid her! You've single-handedly 'friend-zoned' her, and so she thinks you couldn't care less about her that way!"_

_ I felt sick to my stomach. I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want to know what I had done. I didn't want to hear the truth. "Would you like my advise?" Kyle asked. No. No, I don't. For once, I don't want to talk about Betty anymore. I looked into his eyes and didn't say a word. "Stop dating for a while." _

_ No matter how much I searched, I couldn't see any signs in Kyle's eyes saying that he was kidding. He did know who he was talking to, right? "I'm serious, Kenny! Lay off the dating scene a bit and focus solely on __**her**__. I guarantee you that if you try, she will open up to you! Promise me you'll try to get what you really want!"_

_ At first, I just blinked at him in surprise. But eventually, I had to smirk at him. "Oh? __**You **__want __**me**__ to go after what __**I**__ really want?" Kyle couldn't see the irony in this, and just nodded at me, his fiery red curls shaking furiously. Oh, good grief. Why is he so smart, but so clueless? It's too cute! I rolled my eyes and propped my head up. "Alright, I'll take a shot . . . if you do." I challenged through half-lidded eyes. His jade-green eyes bulged and he looked away to hide the tint in his cheeks, asking what I was talking about. I flicked a brow up at him. "You know what I'm talking about. Stan the Man! Don't deny it; everyone knows. Even __**Betty**__ knows! She told me so herself. Said she could see it since day one!" I let my arm flop down and leaned in closer to him. You've loved Stan much, much longer than you let on." _

_Kyle drew himself inward. "N-No, I don't." he pouted. I shook my head and laughed._

"_Dude. Don't be a hypocrite."_

"_I'm not a hypocrite."_

"_Then admit it. I did, didn't I?"_

"_There's nothing to admit!"_

"_Ky . . ."_

"_Okay, maybe a little."_

_ I jabbed a finger at him. "Ah HA! So you're going to follow your own advice, right? 'Cause, Kyle, you deserve to be happy too." The red head shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He stared at his lap. I could see the debate going on in his mind. He mumbled something so soft, I almost couldn't hear him._

"_Stan likes girls, anyway. He's not gay."_

_ "He's gay for you." I scoffed. Kyle's head whiplashed in my direction. I shrugged and tipped my chair back on two legs. "He doesn't think I can, but I can see the looks he gives me behind our backs. This thing we got going on? It's been driving him up the freaking __**wall**__ . . . But I see you have no problems with that?" I pointed out, smirking. Kyle's eyes shown with new hope and possibility. He had the biggest grin on his face I'd ever seen. Bigger than any smile I could ever bring him. I smiled at him and leaned back in to give him a kiss on the forehead. "You've got a shot, dude." I told him. "But if you don't take it, then I won't either. I'm not taking advice that __**you**__ can't even follow." Kyle bit his knuckle. I could tell what he was thinking about from the doubt on his face. "Dude, he's into you. Why would I lie about it?" _

_ After a moment, he looked up at me, determined. "Fine! I'll try to get Stan if you try to get Betty! Deal?" He stuck his hand out firmly. I laughed as I took it in mine. Of course he'd shake on it. After we gave a firm shake, I pulled him close, cupped his face, and kissed him gently. When we separated, his face was in a state of bewilderment._

_ I granted him a sad smile. "I wanted to get one last kiss in before I asked this. Are we through?" Kyle frowned and nodded solemnly. Even though I could sense this coming the whole time, I could still feel my chest ache. I slouched backwards and ran a hand through my hair. "Well. We had a good run, huh?" was all I could really think to say. _

_ Kyle smiled a little. "Yeah. I had fun . . ." Oh, I bet you did, you dirty, dirty boy. Kenny! Restraint! "Did I break up with you? Or did you break up with me?" Good question. Kyle was bringing it up, but I kinda baited him into it? Or suggested it and he agreed? Or . . ._

"_Why don't we say we both agreed it was for the best?" I suggested._

_Kyle nodded. "Sounds fair. And I'll start my end of the bargain tomorrow."_

"_Same here." I told him. I'm not gonna lie, I was going to miss that sweet, sweet—_

_WHACK_

"AHHH!"

Sounds of evil snickering somehow made its way over the thudding of my heart. Mrs. Stitch stood above me holding a giant text book. "Ah, Mr. McCormick. You've decided to join us. Now why, pray tell, do you think you can sleep during my class?" She peered down her nose at me through her vulture glasses.

I rubbed my face with my hands. "Sorry, Mrs. Stitch. It was an accident." I slurred, sleep still clouding my mind. Is there any chance she'll just stay off my back this once?

Nope. "Indeed? Just like every year?" she sniffed. I chose not to respond this time. She placed the text book on my head. "Your book number is TS-46." she stated, then walked away. "Now we can continue distributing books. Next!" I had punched Stan in the arm to shut his giggling pie hole! It didn't work.

"Shut up!" I hissed. Like that would work. He kept laughing, so I settled for flipping him off. "Dude, not cool! I was seriously out of it!"

"I'll say, man! You still have drool on your face!" he snickered. My hand flew up to the corners of my mouth. Sure enough, I felt large, cool circles on the side of my face. Stan giggled even harder. "Dude, you should've seen the look on your face! _Priceless!_" I shot him the bird again. I think I'm starting to turn into Craig. Stan finally calmed down enough, but was had a permanent grin etched on his features. "So, I gotta ask, what were you dreaming so hard about?"

Mrs. Stitch had caught us on her radar and narrowed her eyes at us. "Boys! Pay attention!" she barked. "Other people are waiting to receive their books, and you two are causing a distraction!" I rolled my eyes, drumming my fingers on my desktop. Stan quietly pulled out a piece of paper and start to scribble away on it. It wasn't long before he folded it up and poked me in the arm with it. I took it and reached into my jacket pocket for something to write with. There was still a pen inside it, too big to fall out of the hole growing inside it. That needs to be fixed soon. I open the note to see what Stan the Man had to say.

'What did you dream about?' Next to the question was a sucky little doodle of what I'm assuming was a stick figure version me drooling all over a lop-sided desk.

Why the crap is he so interested? I scribbled down the words 'I don't remember' and doodled a better stick figure me shrugging before tossing it back to him. Stan made a face, scrawled out a response and another crappy picture, and handed it back to me.

'Seriously? How do you forget that fast?' (stickStan rolling his eyes)

'OK, what did you dream about last night?' (obnoxious snoring stickStan)

'Easy. Ky.' (stickKyle)

'BS' (steaming pile of crap with flies)

When Stan read my response, he glared at me and flipped me off. I tried not to laugh too hard as he threw it back at me. I barely caught it.

'It's true!' (middle finger)

'Whatever. Why do you want to know so bad?' (stickMe punching stickStan in the face)

'B/C you were grinning from ear to ear.' (stickMe with a retarded grin) My stomach twisted into knots. Wow, I was _really_ out of it then, huh?

'Maybe it was about tits' (stick figure chick with huge tits)

'Nah. Not only would you remember that, you'd have a boner to remind you.' (poorly drawn penis)

'True' (stickMe laughing)

I was about to toss the note back to Stan when it got snatched out of my hand. Mrs. Stitch strolled to the front of the classroom with our conversation, grabbed some tape off her desk, and attached the note to the white board. "If you're going to have a conversation in my class," she said. "Then the least you can do is share it with everyone." She turned around to face us. "Is that understood?"

Me and Stan slunk down into our seats until we could sink no more, mumbling 'yes, ma'am's in unison. Mrs. Stitch narrowed her eyes. "You're off to a bad start, McCormick. Is there anything else the two of you would like to get off your chest?" When neither of us came forward, she adjusted her glasses and scanned the class. "I should hope you have learned from this, class," she announced. "I would have liked for you to have learned this from your previous years with me. But I suppose the term 'better late than never' applies here. I do not, could not, and _will_ not tolerate any form of disruption." I think the class took a collective gulp. The steel in her voice made us shiver. There might be a _slight _chance that I'm not gonna live to get my diploma this year. My dad was able to pull a few strings at the local car garage in town and now I work there part-time. Once I graduate, though, I'm applying for a full-time job there. It's a pretty sweet gig, and it pays good, too. I'm saving up for a house right now.

Even so, I'd like to have a diploma. My family consists of high school drop outs and an older brother in the county jail. (As it turns out, he's really good at selling crack.) So it'd be pretty cool to make something of myself. This is the result of Kyle preaching to me. I know he and Betty would be proud. Especially Betty! And since Kyle held up his end of the bargain, maybe by then we would be . . .

It's still a little weird allowing myself to think like that. The thought of dating her in particular _scares_ me. I think it started to scare me after the sixth grade, 'cause I started dating a _lot_ more after I 'came out'. But Betty was different. It wasn't _just_ because I believed she deserved better. If anything, If I think psychologically like Kyle does, it's just a cover up. There's . . . something else, too.

**Pssh! **_**No**_** I totally didn't finish this late! What chu talkin' 'bout? Heh heh heh . . . OTL Any-freakin'-way! Today, May 26, is Kyle Broflovski's birthday! Hooraaay! So, I dedicate this chapter to him! :D Thanks for sticking with me, guys! Please feel free to review! Ciao for now! ^3^**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay! I'm totally more on top of this one! Betty Daniels POV! Yeah! What's she been up to, huh? Let's find out! I don't own South Park (be thankful) and any resemblances that Betty holds to anyone (living or dead) is a freak accident and I apologize. Presenting: Chapter 3!**

Silent giggles still escaped my lips. Kyle's little tip was just too great! I almost can't wait to use it! Then again, I guess it'd be a good thing if I never had to. Mr. Moore handed me the last sheet of paper. I grinned up at the middle aged man and thanked him. "You're welcome, Betty. I trust you will have these signed and dated by tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." I smiled. I _love_ Mr. Moore! There are few teachers that I truly respect, and he is among them. Mr. Moore is a fifty-five year old African-American from Michigan. He used to work at a nuclear power plant until his early forties. That's when he decided to hang up his lab coat and move here with his wife. Mr. Moore's life practically revolves around mathematics! I always learn something interesting in his class, whether it's part of the lesson or not. I guess he's just determined to make us take something math-related from his class just in case we're not paying attention to his lessons.

I smile at this thought and pull out my schedule. Next period, I have English with Mrs. Clobber. Huh. That's a new name. Being one of the top students, I have either met or heard of all faculty and staff on the campus grounds. I've never heard of this 'Clobber' person before. Maybe Kyle knows something? "Pst! Hey, Ky!" The bookworm looked up. "Who do you have next period?" I whispered to him.

The redhead squinted up at the ceiling for a moment before reaching into his bag to pull out his own schedule. "History with Mrs. Stitch," My shoulders slumped. Aw, man! Maybe Stan or Kenny will be in that class with me. I think Butters had journalism next period, so he's already ruled out. "Who do you have next?" Kyle asked. I told him the new name and asked if he'd heard anything about her. He shook his head, his bulky glasses threatening to slide off his nose. "Sorry, Bet. I know as much as you."

Well that doesn't help me at all. I closed my eyes and sighed. "Okay. Thanks you." I looked back at my schedule. Mrs. Clobber, huh? I hope she's nice. I don't even know if I'll have any close friends in there! So if she's actually a horrid person, I'll be all by myself! _Pleaaase_ let Mrs. Clobber be kind!

Something poked me in the back and I automatically turned around. Clyde Donovan looked straight at me, pencil in hand. "Hey, did you say you have Mrs. Clobber?" he asked. I was too surprised to speak, so I just nodded. "Can I walk to her class with you?" My initial reaction was to blink at him. Clyde's kind of a big deal around here, second most popular to Stan Marsh. But that's mostly thanks to his athletic activities and his money. Even so, he doesn't normally talk to me. At the same time, popular people only approach me if they want something. What's wrong with me? Clyde's a sweet guy; why not give him a chance? I smile at him and nod in answer. Relief seemed to spread over his features. "Thanks. I don't want to go there by myself." he explained.

I grin like crazy. "Me neither. Seven, seventeen, or _seventy_, I guess it's always going to be a bit nerve wracking meeting a new superior, huh?" Good grief, could I _be_ any lamer? _New superior_? What the crap, Bethany? Clyde's eyebrows creased slightly.

"Seventeen? You're not eighteen yet?"

I shook my head. "Nope, not yet. But I will be this fall." Clyde makes a sort of 'huh' face. You know, where you stick your bottom lip out as far as you can, your eyes go half-mast, and your eyebrows raise up some? Yeah, _that_ face. You also slowly nod your head whenever you do that. It's inevitable, you always do it! Almost like a little pigeon. An image of Clyde with a pigeon head flashed in front of my eyes and I bust out laughing.

"I know, right? It was ridiculous!" Uh-oh. Was Clyde talking this whole time? "So anyway, that's when I said, 'You know what? _Screw you_!', and I turned around and left. You should've seen the look on that guys face; it was flat-out _priceless_!" Oh, I feel so bad right now! What do I do? I don't want him to think I was ignoring him or anything. But he just told me an entire story and I didn't even hear it! I need a distraction, fast!

_BRRRIIINNNG!_

Saved by the bell. Literally! "Oh! Uh, there's the signal! Ready, Clyde?" I asked, a little _too_ eager for my liking. I brought my bag up into my lap and slung the strap over my shoulder. "Alrighty, let's g—" Clyde was already standing over me, thrusting his hand in my face. I blinked at it and then up at him. He smiled at me and I realized I was supposed to take it. Oh. He's chivalrous. Why does that surprise me? I took his clammy hand and he pulled me to my feet. Are his palms always so sweaty? "Uh . . . Thanks, Clyde." Why do I feel so weird? Oh yeah. He's dating Bebe. But that's a dumb reason to get nervous. It's not like he's flirting with me or anything! He's just a nice guy . . . right?

We say good-bye to Mr. Moore and head out into the hallways. No reason why we can't have a civilized chat along the way, is there? "Um, so! I hear you're dating Bebe again!" What the freak? _Why_ is that the first thing that comes out of my mouth?

The chestnut haired boy looked at me in surprise. "Really? Who told you that?" he asked. I casually shrug and tell him that Bebe herself told me. He looked like he was about to sprout wings and just _soar_. "Are you serious? Bebe told you we were dating? That's fantastic!" I couldn't help but laugh. Clyde blushed a little, a love-sick grin plastered onto his face. "Sorry," he chuckled. "It's just that, at first, I thought she was already trying to get back with Kenny, you know? But this time, I think she genuinely wants to be with me and me alone! Betty . . . I think I'm in love with her!" My stomach felt like it'd been turned into lead. Clyde, you gullible, gullible child! Shame on you, Bebe! You have no idea how good you've got it! "Me and Bebe are applying for the same university, you know," he continued. "She's planning to be a surgeon and I'm trying to become a pediatrician!"

I almost tripped. Bebe? A _surgeon_? "Holy cow, how long has she wanted to be a surgeon?" I asked, blown away.

"Well, you remember back in sixth grade, when Bebe had appendicitis?" Clyde asked. How could I forget? We were in the middle of class when she had suddenly doubled over out of her desk, clutching her side and screaming how much it hurt. I heard they had gotten her to the hospital just as it was about to pop! "Wendy had told her," Clyde continued, "that if they had waited a second longer, she could've _died_." I already knew that. If it had ruptured while it was still inside her, it would have released all off the toxic wastes stored inside it, causing her insides to become infected. It can be fatal in certain cases. "Anyway, it fascinated Bebe that she was a mere brush away from death, and she began to appreciate surgeons a whole lot more. While she was in the hospital, she started asking questions about the procedures and other things. Now, she wants to return the favor by saving someone else." Whoa. Just— whoa! I _never_ would've pegged Bebe to be so . . . deep. And I told Clyde that, too. "Yeah," he laughed. "That's my Bebe; full of surprises!"

I scratched the tip of my nose. "I also would never have guessed that you'd be into pediatrics. I mean, no offense, but you're kind of squeamish. Is this whole medical thing due to Bebe's goal of being a surgeon?" Then again, he has toughened up a good bit since his mother passed away.

Clyde blushed and shook his head. "N-No. I _love_ kids. It always makes me upset when I see them hurt or in pain. So I wanna take care of them so they can get better as soon as possible." Try as I might, I _could not_ picture Clyde as a doctor. Or at least a very good one. I shrug in defeat and wish them both the best of luck. "Thanks . . . Uh, hey. Don't tell anybody about this, okay? Bebe doesn't want people to know just yet." Huh? I'm confused, why would . . .

"Why would she keep it a secret?" And why would you tell me about it if that's true?

"I think she wants to surprise everyone if she gets in. Er, to the university, I mean. Not even Wendy knows about this." Yeah, that sounds like something she'd do. But it still seems a little fishy to me. Clyde looked at his schedule and pointed to an open doorway. "I think this is it." At a second glance, I recognized this as the room where we held last minute meetings, since it held no other purpose. I wonder what happened to all the random stuff that was once stored in there? We looked at each other briefly before stepping through the door to meet our new teacher.

A frazzled looking woman with wild blonde hair stood at the front of the room. She was wearing thick-rimmed glasses that magnified her eyes considerably. The woman was a little on the gangly side and looked almost sickly pale. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. She was bent over her metal desk, rummaging papers around and muttering nervous little sentences under her breath. She was completely oblivious to the students filing into her room. Clyde and I exchanged quick glances at each other as she continued her jittery behavior. "Um, excuse me," I started.

You'd have thought I had suddenly screamed at the top of my lungs by her reaction. I swear she jumped about ten feet off the ground. Her arms flew up with a shriek, sending papers flying every which way. I let out my own little yelp of surprise. I wasn't expecting her to do that at all! All of my classmates stopped what they were doing and panned in to the strange lady, Clyde, and me. Then laughter broke out. The grown-up's cheeks tinged a deep rouge color, and she started to flap her hands around. "O-Oh, me! S-Sorry, I di-didn't see you there. Umm . . ." Her green and brown eyes swept the now paper-littered area. She visibly winced and scooped down to pick them up without another word.

I joined her down on the floor. It kind of _was_ my fault she threw the papers everywhere, though I still don't understand how I did it. Clyde gathered the papers that were all over the desks. At least he didn't just stand there and watch like most other guys would have. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the papers were our syllabuses. It was very hard to keep myself from letting out a small whine. I try to tolerate them, but good grief! After the dumb copies of class regulations were rounded up, Clyde and I gave the woman our stacks. She took them into her shaky hands and morphed them with hers to form one pile. "I'm sorry I scared you so bad, ma'am." I said, meekly.

"Wh-What? Oh! Don't-Don't worry about it. It-It happens all the t-time," she explained, placing the papers back on her desk. "Thank you, uh, f-for helping me pick those up." She twitched rather violently, making me jump slightly.

"Um . . . Ma'am, are you Mrs. Clobber?" I asked.

The woman shivered and pulled her deep blue cardigan tighter around her. "Erm, th-that's _Ms_. Clobber now," she corrected. "A-Are you two in my class?" Oh my word, _this_ is our English teacher? Hey! Be nice, Betty!

I shook my head a little to clear my thoughts away. "Yes ma'am," I smiled. "My name is Betty." I gestured to Clyde. "And this is Clyde." He nodded to Ms. Clobber in an awkward manner.

"I see. Er, w-well then, uh . . ." Ms. Clobber nibbled on her lip thoughtfully for a moment. "Oh! Um, g-go take a seat, if you would. Class should start soon, I-I think."

When I turned to start finding a good seat, I bumped into Clyde's arm. He wasn't moving. "I have a question," he said. "Do you know anybody that goes by Tweek Tweak?" I looked back at Ms. Clobber expectantly. Now that he mentions it . . .

"Wh-Why yes! He's my n-nephew. I'm his father's s-s-sister." Oh, _that's_ who she reminds me of! Tweek!

"Oh, cool! So, you're part of the Tweak Bros. coffee shop then?" I asked.

Ms. Clobber shook her head. "N-No. When our f-father opened the shop, he only let Richard and our uncle work w-with him. B-But Richard was alw-ways trying to make different types of coffee and he made me his taste t-t-tester." That one sentence just explained _so much_. Clyde had to cough to cover up his accidental laugh. "Goodness, Clyde. Do you need to go to the n-nurse?"

Clyde shook his head. "No, I'm fine" He cleared his throat and finally regained his composure. "Um, but anyway, that's pretty cool. Mr. Tweak's coffee is pretty good." If you can't say something nice, lie through your teeth.

"Are you kidding me? It's total cr-cr-_crap_!"

. . . Or not. Ms. Clobber looked to her desk and picked up a red thermos. She put the rim of the cup to her lips and tried to take a sip. However, the farther she leaned back, the more apparent it became that nothing was there. She brought the mug back down and peered down into the tiny hole in the lid. "Nnnn! It's empty!" she whined. Awww! She looks so pitiful like that! She's the spitting image of Tweek whenever he runs out his coffee. Our new teacher looked up at us through her thick-rimmed glasses. "Go take your seats," she instructed. "I-I'll be right back." She cruised past us and out the door, her thermos clutched tightly to her chest. I shrugged at Clyde and we went to pick out our seats. He chose a desk in front of me this time.

So. That's Ms. Clobber, huh?

"I like her." Clyde mused. "She's a little paranoid, but she seems like an okay person." I couldn't agree more, Clyde. We spent the next few minutes chit-chatting and watching the rest of our classmates file in. Some faces I had recognized were Wendy, Jimmy, Kevin, Timmy, and Token. The latter boy spotted Clyde as soon as he came in and sat next to him, which resulted in him joining our meaningless conversation. After that, I didn't really pay attention to much of the others. I think I might have seen Francis, Jessie, and Heidi at one point. But when I saw the last handful of students come in, my stomach filled with cynicism. Oh, joy. _Nicole's_ here this year.

Nicole Abernathy walked into the room with her signature pursed lips. Her tanned skin popped thanks to the clashing colors of her designer clothes. Her snobbishness poured from her every movement as she slowly made her way across the room. Nicole found me as soon as she looked my way, and a nasty sneer spread across her face. "Oh, yeah. _You _go here, don't you?" she snapped, tossing her golden locks over her shoulder.

Keep your cool, Betty; keep your cool! I smiled at her and shrugged. "Yeah. I heard you were moving schools, but I didn't know it would be here, Nicole! Welcome to South Pa—"

Nicole rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Shut _up_." Her voice dripped with forced preppy-ness, and it made me cringe. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a lighter. A stick was placed in between plump red lips and was immediately lit on the outer end. She inhaled deeply before tilting her head back and letting the smoke billow out of her nose. She looked like the wicked dragon that she was. "I guess I can't complain too much," she sighed. "If _you're_ here, then McCormick must be here too." Her head straightened back up to reveal a suggestive smirk ghost her lips. "I haven't seen him all summer, you know. It'd be fun to get _reacquainted_ with him." I felt my eye twitch ever so slightly at her biting remark. She saw it and smirked at her accomplishment. "So tell me, Bitty Titty," Nicole paused to take another drag of her cigarette, walking down the aisle to stand above me. "Where is he now?"

I prayed it wasn't too obvious that I was biting my cheek to keep from saying anything I'd regret. "I have no clue." I told her. "Probably won't until break." I glanced at her cigarette. "You know, I don't think Coach would be too thrilled to learn that you still have your nasty little habit there, Nicole. You know how she gets once practice starts to kick up again."

"Whatever," Nicole mumbled, sucking nicotine out of her cancer stick as the bell rang. She blew the smoke into my face. I stared her down, trying not to blink. Or cough. Or _breathe_. "You better keep an eye out for your little friend, Titty. I just might snatch him back up before you can even blink." She let out a horrid cackle, flicked the still burning stick at my chest, and cat walked to the farthest part of the room.

I scrambled to get the cigarette away from my skin. When I finally grabbed it, I held it between my forefinger and my thumb in disdain. I was serious when I told her she shouldn't be smoking. As a fellow gymnast, she's going to need as much clean air in her lungs as she can get.

Clyde reached back and took the trash out of my hands. He had pulled a napkin out of thin air and was snuffing out the smoldering remains of the burning stick. "Geez!" Token whispered. "What is up with _her_?"

I shook my head. "She sees me as a threat in gymnastics." I explained. "She was the top gymnast until I came around. She doesn't like being second to anybody, especially not me!" Nicole Abernathy hates me with a burning passion. She'd do anything to shake me. And when I say anything, I mean _anything_. Including my best friend. She has absolutely no feelings for Kenny; she slept with him to get under my skin. It's her biggest weapon against me. She uses it at every turn.

Clyde crumpled the cigarette up in the napkin and rung the mesh waste basket by the door. "Oh, yeah! I keep forgetting you take gymnastics!" he said. I would be surprised that he knew at all if I hadn't remembered the equation: Clyde equals Bebe, equals Kenny, equals _me_.

Token sniffed. "Man, that chick needs a serious attitude adjustment!" he spat. "I can't believe you took that so calmly, girl! How did you not just _blow up_ at her?"

I smiled back at him. "Meh. It's fine. You get used to it after a while, you know?" However, in the past, I only had to put up with her for about two to three hours, three days a week. I never had to tolerate her for an entire day before. This just might get ugly.

A moment later, Ms. Clobber came back into the classroom, sipping contently on her thermos mug. "Mmmm, th-that's the spot," she sighed. The last bell rang loud and sharp, catching Ms. Clobber off guard. She cried out and almost dropped her freshly poured coffee. The other kids snickered at how easily startled she was. The poor woman chuckled nervously and set her cup safely back on her desk. "W-Welcome to English class. M-My name is Ms. Clobber, and I-I will be your new teacher this year." She paused for a moment, as if she expected us all to go, 'Hello, Ms. Clobber' like we did in elementary school. When we didn't, she cleared her throat and moved on. "A-Anyway, I have the syllabuses ready for this cl-class, so if you would just t-t-take one and pass it back, tha-that would be helpf-f-f-ful."

The new teacher picked up the stack of papers we helped to pick up and handed them to Kevin, who was sitting in the first seat of the first row. As the papers made their way around the room, Ms. Clobber stumbled her way through the basic rules of the classroom. Like, no air horns or paper airplanes or spitballs (a.k.a. Nothing that will give her a heart attack). I know it must have been rude of me, but I started to tune her out about halfway through it. But can you really blame me? I have to hear this same speech _six more times_ today, and I have already heard it six times _over_ in the past! Geez, I hope this speech isn't mandatory in college; it becomes a bit _mind numbing_ after a certain point!

Eventually, my train of thought led me to Clyde and Bebe. Something really doesn't add up. Hearing Clyde talk, you'd think they were in a tight-knit relationship! But Bebe's still trying to flirt with Kenny. There's _got _to be a third story somewhere. Clyde's such a nice guy; I want him to get his dream life. It sounds like Bebe likes Clyde, too. Could it be she's actually afraid to commit? I have no clue. But if she's just out to hurt him, I'd lose my new found respect for the perky blonde.

"Uh, n-now that's settled," I heard Ms. Clobber say. "L-Let's go ahead a-and assign the text books." This announcement made me grin. I've been looking forward to 12th grade English for a while. I heard a rumor that we go over an extensive amount of Shakespeare! Unlike the syllabuses, the text books were distributed by hand. As soon as Ms. Clobber recorded my book's number, I reached into my bag and groped around until I found my thin, gold-framed reading glasses.

"Dude, I didn't know you wore glasses!" Token whispered as I slipped them on.

"Yeah," I murmured sheepishly. "I generally try _not _to." I paused to adjust them. "It can be embarrasses me for some reason." Clyde turned around so he could see what we were talking about.

"Whoa! How long have you had glasses?"

I have to think a minute before I answer him. "Ummm, I think about eight or nine years now. It was only a couple of months after I moved here. I had just woken up one morning and I had noticed everything wasn't as sharp as they used to be."

"I don't see why you'd be embarrassed by your glasses, Betty." Token said. "I think they kind of make you look more grown-up."

A familiar heat flared up beneath my cheeks. I tilted my head forward and allowed my hair to curtain my face. "R-Really? You think so?" I really look more grown-up? I look more mature? Maybe I _should_ where my glasses more often! I mean, what am I worried about, really? Besides, I shouldn't care what Craig or the others would say; in fact, I _don't_ care! What reason should I have to be embarrassed about anyway?

Clyde nodded in agreement with his best friend. "Yeah, totally! They give you a kind of sexy-innocent librarian look." I immediately took my glasses off. And _there's_ the reason. Shakespeare is just going to have to wait until get home, I guess. The two boys began to snicker at my reaction to Clyde's 'sexy' comment. "It wasn't an _insult_, Betty! Why'd you take 'em off so fast?"

I hunched my shoulders over, trying to hide somehow. "I don't _do_ sexy. It doesn't match me." I murmured in monotone.

"Says who?" Token asked.

"Says me."

"Why's that?" Clyde pestered.

"I dunno." I lied. I was getting tired of being the topic of conversation. My brain started working overtime to try and think of a distraction. But as it turned out, I didn't have to.

Wendy came tip-toeing her way over to our side of the room and slid into the seat behind Token. She was sitting right next to me. Token turned around, grinning from ear to ear. "Hey, babe." he said, snacking his arm back to wrap it around her shoulders and try to bring her closer to him. It didn't work very well, considering a _desktop_ was kind of in their way. Wendy let out a cute little giggle when Token pecked her cheek.

"Hey, honey. What are you doing all the way over here? I didn't even see you until Ms. Clobber started handing out these books!" She leaned in to meet Token in a brief kiss before letting him explain.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't see you when I came in. So I came to sit over here. Been talking to these guys the whole time." Token then proceeded to gesture to us. I felt a random urge to explain myself for some reason, like what I was doing was wrong. That's probably me being paranoid a little as a result from the _last_ time I started hanging out with her boyfriend.

"Hey, Wends! Do you think Betty could pull off being sexy?" Clyde blurted out.

My mouth dropped open in horror. "_Tell_ me you did _not_ just _ask her_ that!" I silently shrieked at him.

Wendy turned towards me and looked me up and down as if studying me. I felt like a bug under a humungous microscope. "I dunno," she concluded. "She looks too innocent to be 'sexy'. Then again, it's not as if I've ever seen her try. She's not even wearing any make-up for heaven's sake." My heart felt like someone reached inside my chest and punched it right between the valves.

". . . I'm wearing make-up right_ now_!" I told her, my voice tiny and meek.

Wendy's eyes widened a little in surprise. "Really? Lemme see!" She reached across the aisle and managed to snag my wrist to pull me closer to her. She leaned in too, to meet me halfway . . . so to speak. Her deep brown eyes flickered every which way behind squinted lids, trying to find something that resembled cosmetics in the tiniest form. "Oh, you are! You're just wearing flesh tones!" Wendy released my arm and I sat up to a less back-straining position. "There's your problem," she diagnosed. "The colors are way too close your natural skin pigment! It's been applied nicely, but you can't even see it. What all did you use?" I counted off the products on my fingers: some light eyeshadow, sample mascara from department stores, some foundation, powder, and my favorite lip gloss. A look of simple pity flashed across her face and I almost felt ashamed.

"Betty, show her your glasses!" Clyde, _please_ stop talking.

The raven haired girl looked at me curiously. "Glasses? You wear glasses?" she asked. I groaned a little. I don't know _what_ possessed me to do as Clyde told me to, but I retrieved my golden specs and placed them on my face once more. I let Wendy coo over them for a few seconds before quickly swiping them back off. "Betty! They're so cute! Why don't you wear them more often?" Clyde and Token chimed in too, saying that's what _they _wanted to know.

"They're a little embarrassing for me," I repeated. "Besides, they're _reading_ glasses. Not normal, every-day glasses. Everything far away becomes fuzzy and I can't see straight. Only a handful of people even know I have these." That's right, only a few: Aunt Burny, Uncle Mark, Butters, and Kyle. I'm perfectly happy with that. In fact, I'd prefer it! Now I get the feeling that half the school's going to know by the end of the day. That won't do. "_Please_ don't tell everybody," I whispered. "I don't want to draw the wrong kind of attention to them. There are people who might make fun of me for having them."

Clyde rolled his eyes. "That's stupid! Who would make fun of you for wearing _glasses_ of all things?"

Nicole. Her posse. Cartman (although, he only teases me). Craig. His lackeys. Maybe Tweek, since he follows Craig everywhere. Tons of people. Butter and Kyle know about my 'social problem', but I make them keep their mouths shut. No body seems to think that I might have people who genuinely despise me. I intend to keep it that way.

**Motherhugger! Okay, I obviously wasn't as 'on top of this' as I had originally hoped. I can't make any promises on updates for the rest of the chapters. My typing has finally caught up with my writing. I hope and pray I can finish chapter 4 before next Saturday! It's a bit awkward for me, though. For reasons . . . rated M. *wink, wink; nudge, nudge* By the way, as a side note, whenever Kenny and Betty talk about changes that happened to them in the fourth grade that seem 'unexplainable', it's a reference to the first story. So, I guess to truly understand what they're talking about, you really **_**do**_** have to read the first story. Sorry about that. :/ Anyway, I hope I can catch y'all next week! Please feel free to review! ^3^ Ciao for now!**


	4. Chapter 4

**OTL . . . I am so sorry, you guys. I am totally to blame for the lack of updates. I kinda got stuck. Not with the story line or anything, but . . . ermmm . . . with the contents of this particular chapter. / Let's just say, this is where the 'Rated M' starts to come in. (Keep in mind that this is a Kenny's POV chapter.) And then I got stuck on what to write **_**afterwards**_**. In fact, as I'm typing this a/n out, this chapter remains unfinished. Obviously since you're reading this, it's complete, but I think you get the idea. Also, before I begin, please go ahead and assume that the updates from here on in may not be as smooth as the previous chapters were. In fact, there may be huge time lapses such as this in the future. I recommend re-reading some stuff if you've forgotten anything. I am so sorry, you guys! DX Hopefully, this chapter will make up for my absence. I don't own South Park (be thankful) and any resemblances that Betty Daniels holds to anyone (living or dead) is a freak accident and I apologize. Please enjoy this overdue chapter of ANINY.**

"Get out of here, you crazy kids."

I rolled my eyes. Good grief, Mr. Moore does not know how to let something die, does he? I really don't understand what Bet sees in him. She's like his teacher's pet or something. I run out of the room to escape the wandering eyes of Bebe. She's got a bad case of what I like to call 'judge-itus'. We've definitely had our share of history together, from a one night stand to a full-on relationship. It always ends the same way, though. Her squalling after sex because she still has a thing for Clyde. It's really complicated, as is the norm for most females it seems.

Clyde and me are Bebe's favorites. She compares everybody she dates with us. Are they sensitive, like Clyde? Are they wild in the sack, like me? Those are her words, not mine, by the way. To answer any questions, yes. She has told me she only dates me for the sex. Considering that's usually what I'm after in relationships, I can't say I was really upset about that. According to Bebe, Clyde's too, quote-unquote, 'sensitive' in bed. Bebe likes it rough and Clyde doesn't want to hurt her. Trust me, I did _not_ learn this stuff willingly. No matter how you ask her, Bebe will not shut up once she gets started on her drama bullcrap. Clyde is totally hung up on her, and were I a good person, I would try to push her off to Clyde. However, I'm not _that_ good a person, so I leave it alone to get more sex.

I flinch at that last sentence as it runs through my head. I almost forgot my promise. I told Kyle I wouldn't sleep around anymore. Just as well; I hear she's back with Clyde anyway. She's all yours, dude.

It's break time right now, and the entire student body is trying to work their way through the halls. I'm trying to find the spot the guys and me picked out last year as our official hang out. It's in the middle of the courtyard by the huge tree. Unfortunately, my train of thought slowed me down, and our spot was overrun by a mob of budding hormones. I swore under my breath. "Now what?" Normally, I'd tell them to hit the road, but I didn't feel like messing with them. Too tired. Since I was lost in thought for so long, my head started to get foggy. _Maybe I'll just walk around until I see someone._ My hands find their way to the corduroy pockets of my jacket and I head off in a random direction.

I saw a major percentage of my past 'lovers' as I aimlessly roamed the halls. Some gave me a scowl. Others gave me a suggestive wink. The rest just greeted me with a flirty wave of the hand. Meanwhile, potential new ex's blushed and giggled in hushed tones. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss my active sex life already. Especially since almost every teen in town was a walking, talking reminder of what I once had. Well, not just teens per se. There was one point where I was actually working the corner to get some extra cash. When Kyle found out, he was furious and made me promise to stop. I only agreed if he admitted honestly that he was gay. The rest is yet another chapter in the McCormick History book.

Speaking of sex and Kyle, I wonder how Stan is doing about that now? My lips twitched as a mental picture appeared of a red-faced Stan Marsh standing in my doorway and asking me for tips on buttsex. That was, like, _the_ best moment I've ever had in my _life_! I mean, I get to tease Stan every day, but _this_ time! _This _time I got to make him _squirm_! It was the crown jewel of every embarrassing moment I've ever had with him! And I relished it by sparring him no details. From telling him how to give a blowjob to trying to make him promise to let me know when they wanted to have a threesome. (I made sure he was outside before telling him that, and I narrowly missed the snowball he had chucked at me.) I was only half kidding. They're my best friends, sure, but I would _love_ to get a piece of that. Stan's bulging muscles glistening with sweat, Kyle's alabaster skin flushing that cute rouge, the two lovers moaning at each other's touch in ecsta— . . . uh-oh.

I peeked down at my crouch to see that tell-tale signs of a slight bulge and muttered a string of curses. Not here! Not now! I tried to think of things that could make it go away. _Okay, lemme think: slugs, fat, Cartman, bad breath, smelly socks, jock straps, Stan, Kyle, Stan __**and**__ Kyle, Stan __**on top**__ of Kyle— CRAP!_ This wasn't gonna work. I had to fix this by hand.

Despite my string of luck, I remembered that there was a 'teacher's only' bathroom nearby. I tried to walk like normal and prayed that it wasn't as noticeable as it felt. Once I found the men's 'teacher's only' sign, I managed to slink inside and locked the door. It was a private bathroom, guaranteeing me that there would be no interruptions. The toilet seat was already up, so with one swift movement, I let my pants fall around my ankles. "Hello, old friend," I sneered at my erection. "Aren't you a little early in the year to be showing up here?" I swear it twitched back at me. Anyway, it was about time to stop talking to my cock and start jerking it. I had to spit on my hand since I stopped carrying lube around with me. When my fingers wrapped around my shaft, a small hiss echoed around the bathroom. _Why is this school so __**cold**__?_

My fingers warmed up quickly; I slowly began stroking myself, closing my eyes and letting the sensation wash over me. I bit my cheeks to keep from groaning too loudly. The walls aren't exactly _soundproof_. I swear I _really_ hate my testicles sometimes. With every tug, my cock got more and more rigid. I tried rolling my thumb over the head to coax my orgasm along. My knees almost buckled from the stimulation.

Another head began to materialize behind my eyelids. Except this head has a mouth. And it was _her_ mouth wrapped around my shaft, not my fingers. I can't see her face, but I can almost hear the delicious sounds of her hard at work. I bit my bottom lip and imagined grabbing a handful of light brown hair. My imagination makes her hair feel so soft in my hands, and I give it a gentle tug to press her on. In my head, she gets the wrong message and sucks even harder in an attempt to please me. The thought alone makes my hips thrust forward and my real hand jerks even faster. A searing hot coil builds up in my stomach. I start trembling, I'm so close. I create the rest of the girl's petite, naked body. She's on all fours at my feet. Her small tush is wagging back and forth behind her. A small noise came from her busy lips. It sounded a bit desperate, like she needed some attention. I picture my hand releasing her long hair and I slowly start running my hand down her pale back as far as I can. I don't think about how I don't normally do stuff this . . . tame. I like it rough. But there's something about this imaginary girl that makes me want to treat her gently.

She mewled in appreciation. I don't think I've ever heard a noise so sexy before; or rather, made up a noise so sexy before. I want to hear it again, so I keep rubbing her back mentally. This dream girl thanks me my massaging my balls with her other hand. My eyes snap open when my other hand acts out what I'm picturing in my horny-idled mind. The inside of my cheek started bleeding from the force of my teeth clamping down to keep my mouth shut. The metallic tang was only making it worse. I needed to cum. Now! But I couldn't, and it was driving me crazy being so close to ecstasy! My cock was starting to hurt from pulling on it so hard. I can still see this mystery girl without having to close my eyes. I started to notice that she looked familiar. But I couldn't figure out who it could be, until she looked up at me with big, silvery eyes. She whispered my name in a voice so frail, I thought it would break.

"B . . . Betty!"

My eyes widen and then clench shut as the realization causes me to finally explode on my hand and into the toilet in front of me. My cheeks bulge up from my erotic scream tearing up my throat. My hips convulse with every spurt. When I stopped cumming, I sunk to the blue-tiled floor. I let go of my limp shaft with ragged breaths. It's still twitching a bit. I rest my head on the side of the toilet. At this point, I could really care less how nasty that probably is. Too focused on the sickening feeling of guilt coursing through my veins.

I can't believe what I'd just done. Again! Yeah, anything and everything can get me turned on, that has yet to change. But lately, I can't get off without thinking of Betty. And that alone makes me sick enough as it is! But this is the first time I actually _pictured_ her doing something . . . dirty. Cum squeezes through my clenched fist, making me feel even more sullied than I was already. I made a deal with Kyle. I told him that if he would at least try to _talk_ to Stan about how he feels, then I would try with Betty. He's held up his part of the bargain, and I generally try to be a man of my word. But the truth is . . .

I'm deathly afraid.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm a retard. But I just, I can't stop it! I mean, I'm already perverting her in my head for crying out loud! I know usually I would _jump_ at the chance to get in bed with someone. But not her, not Betty! I'm afraid I'll lose control with her. I just don't want to hurt her, you know? I don't want any mistakes to happen. I don't want her to be afraid of me, or hate me! If I start dating her, I _know_ we'd start messing around. It's inevitable. I've had relationships where we were bound and determined that we were _not_ going to have sex before, and then we ended up doing just that three days later. I'm a horny piece of scum. But I never thought I'd actually be _ashamed_ of it until now! Too much is changing too fast for me. I don't even know what to do with myself.

I washed my hands at the sink, trying not to leave any DNA messes anywhere. After I wiped down the toilet, I pulled my pants and boxers up.

_BRRRRING!_

Ah, crap! I wasted my whole break in here! I unlocked the door and discreetly slipped outside. As soon as I did, I spotted a shock of Kyle's red hair down the hall. It looked like he was talking to Clyde and Token. My eyebrows furrowed. What in the world? What are those guys up to? I started to walk towards them, but I stopped mid-step. There, in between them, stood Betty. I felt my cheeks flare up and my stomach twist into shameful knots. _Tch! I can't face her now! Not after what I just . . ._ I made a sharp turn in the opposite direction and skulked away. _Gah, I'm such a coward! I've talked to plenty of people after jerking off to them before! Why not now?_ Deep down, though, I know it's different. It's _way_ different! Betty's not 'other people'. It should've been obvious that this wouldn't be the same as all the others. I don't understand why this is such a big shock to me. _Screw it! I need time to think. I'm skipping the rest of the day. I'll just go talk to Kyle once school's out._

I made my way to the deserted part of the school known as the Invisible Zone. It's sort of an unspoken agreement between the students that what goes on in the Invisible Zone, stays in the Invisible Zone. So no one really hangs out there for privacy reasons. Or really, so there are no witnesses to whatever business you're about to settle.

The back double doors came into view just as an unwanted, familiar face popped out. She flicked her straw colored hair over her shoulder and flashed her perfected smirk. Nicole frickin' Abernathy. _Son of a— Can I __**please**__ have a break today? It's not even ten o'clock yet people!_ Actually, the chunky clock on the wall indicated that it was about five 'til.

"Long time, no see, McCormick," Nicole purred. "What's the matter? You look a little flustered." She crossed her arms, a cigarette held limply between her lips. "You were really hard to find, you know. I was beginning to think you were trying to avoid me." Smoke blew out her nostrils, making her look like the dragon she was.

"Apparently, I'm not doing it very well. What are you even doing here?" I snarled. Nicole and I used to have a thing until I overheard her threatening Betty one day. She had even had the gall as to try and make her think I was just using her. I've hated her ever since. She's a manipulative little snake in the grass. But last I had heard she went to another school.

Nicole rolled her eyes. "Oh, c'mon now. Don't be like that," she sighed. She took one last drag from her cigarette before throwing it on the ground to stomp it out. "My dad got demoted and was transferred here. So, obviously, we had to follow." It's official. This year is going to _suck_. She sashayed her way over to where I was standing. "But, like I told Bitty Titty, if you're here then it can't be that bad, can it?" I don't think I've ever wanted to hit a girl so bad in my life! She walked her fingers across the length of my shoulders. "So. Just where do you think you're headed, big boy? You know, if you're looking for a quickie . . ." She leaned in next to my ear and whispered, ". . . You don't have to look that far."

I jerked away from those evil little talons she calls a manicure. "Back off, Abernathy. I don't want anything to do with you!"

Nicole cocked her eyebrow. "Ooh. Extra-sensitive today, aren't we?" Then she laughed. "I would be too, if I was always being followed by that whiney little perfectionist." She shuddered, as if the very thought of Betty sickened her. "Whatever. We're not talking about Bitty Titty, are we?" _I will __**not**__ hit a girl. I will __**not**__ hit a girl._ Nicole plastered her stupid fake pout on her face. "C'mon, McCormick. Can't we let bygones be bygones?" Way to win me over, you little bit—

_BRRRRING!_

About time that dumb bell was useful for something! I wistfully flipped her off, giving her the best stink eye I could. "You're barkin' up the wrong tree, Abernathy. I'm not interested in whatever you're trying to sell me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta get to class." I shoved past her without looking back. It wasn't until I was halfway to my next class that I remembered that I was supposed to be skipping school right now . . . _DANG IT!_

**Finally! :D Again, I am so sorry for the amount of time that's passed between these chapters! I'm also sorry for Kenny's . . . bathroom scene. 6/6 I'm not a dude, so I don't know if it's realistic or not. Remember, I might not get to update as frequently as before! But there is a silver lining! School starts for me August 20****th****. That's exactly a week from now. For some reason, I'm only able to write more and get better ideas in school! I think it might be the atmosphere or something. So, hopefully, I'll be writing out the chapters a lot quicker once I start school again. Still can't believe I'm a Senior this year. O_o I still don't feel like it. Anyway, thank you for being so patient with me! Please feel free to review! Ciao for now! ^3^**


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